Don't Despair, Or Go Ahead, Despair All You Want

This morning I traveled back to an Internet-free zone.  I couldn't connect with the worldwide web.  I'll be honest with you.  I didn't like it.  I felt adrift, much like Robert Redford in "All is Lost."  Much like Sandra Bullock in "Gravity."  Much like other movie references I'm sure I could make if I had more actively-firing brain cells.  But I don't, so I went looking for people to blame.  "What did you do to the Internet?" I asked hubby.  "Nothing," he said.  "Can you please fix it?" I said.  He can pretty much fix anything.  A clogged sink.  A drooping bougainvillea.  A vehicular deficiency.  Why not this?  I stood back and watched him type in secret codes and flip switches and do all sorts of sophisticated wizardry he's picked up during his career in TV.  Well, I'm sorry to report the results were less than spectacular.  They were non-existent. He fixed bupkis. Next I blamed Dusty.  "Did you bury the Internet in the backyard?"  "Woof."  "Go out there and dig it back up, you bad boy."  Dusty returned moments later with a half-eaten walnut.  "Does this walnut get AOL?" "Bark."  "Yahoo?" "Bark bark."  "I'll take that as a no."  No Internet left me an empty shell of myself.  (See what I did there?)  I was riddled with despair.  How would I see the atrocious outfits worn at the Grammy's?  How would I check email?  How would I survive?  And then, a miracle arrived in the form of the tech-savvy youngest son.  I threw myself at his mercy. "Help me, son.  Help. Me.  Help me get the Internet.  Get the Internet back for me.  Get it back!" "Geez, Ma, calm down.  Just use Google Chrome."  "Google Chrome?  Do I have that?"  "Probably."  Not bad for 7:45 in the morning.  "Thank you, my son.  Thank you."  I ran to my office, which currently resembles a dust bin of neglect and random dog hair, not to mention a dog crate, which explains why I'm always sneezing, clicked on the magical button, and here I am.  And here is my half-baked blog.